


three thousand six hundred and fifty three

by cowboykillers



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Fluff, M/M, ZoSan Advent Calendar 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 11:48:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12983427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboykillers/pseuds/cowboykillers
Summary: Some people take ten minutes to fall in love.Some people take ten years.





	1. Have a Holly Jolly Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2017 ZoSan Advent Calendar hosted by [dailyzosan](http://dailyzosan.tumblr.com)! I had December 11th.

The good news was, he wasn't dead. It was about the only good news he had, considering he was already running late to a Christmas party and all the food he brought was only going to get colder the longer he was stuck in the goddamn snow, but at least he was alive.

Somehow, he thought Luffy wouldn't see things his way if they had to have Christmas dinner with no meat. 

Slamming a mittened hand against his steering wheel, Sanji shouted, " _Fuck_!" into the silence, his breath misting around his face on his angry exhale. He tried the gas again, leaning out the window as his tires spun fruitlessly and sprayed dirty, slushy snow behind him. No luck; he was stuck here, and he'd already tried digging his bastard of a Lexus out of the snow to no avail, so he was going to die here, probably.

Well, no, he wasn't, but he was going to make himself sick eating through the Luffy-sized portions of food he'd cooked waiting for someone to happen upon him on this godforsaken back road.

Dropping back against his seat, Sanji pressed his hands to his face and screamed into his palms, both feet planted firmly against his floorboards. If he hadn't _insisted_  on cooking everything at his own place and hauling it over, this wouldn't even be an issue. The roads had been fine that morning, and he'd gambled against the fresh snowfall, a gamble that he'd fucking _lost_  because here he was, tucked up against the side of the road, spun-out and stuck with --

"Almost empty," he muttered dully, closing his eyes as realization hit. He had to stop revving his engine trying to get out; he was going to run out of gas, and no gas meant no heat, and no heat meant he really might die stuck here overnight. Fantastic. _Shit_ , why hadn't he stopped to get gas?

His breath began coming in faster, shorter little puffs, hands curled tight in his lap, and he tried to focus on survival techniques. He didn't have a blanket in his damn car, didn't have bottled water, didn't have -- anything, really, except the food next to him -- and he glanced to it, feeling nausea swell. So he wouldn't die of starvation, great, but that hadn't really been his concern to begin with.

He bit the fingertip of one of his mittens, jerking it off harshly and patting himself down for a cigarette and his lighter. The first thing, he reasoned, was to stop the swell of panic from completely overtaking him, and having a cigarette would go a long way toward getting him to chill the fuck out. He fumbled the lighter twice before making an unholy noise of frustration and abandoning his other mitten, bare hands trembling slightly as it sparked and then lit, finally. The effect was immediate, and he knew it was ninety percent in his head, but he was willing to take it at the moment.

First things first: he rolled up his window, cranked the heat up, and waited until it was almost unbearably hot to kill the engine. That would buy him some time on his limited gas, and it was warm enough that he wouldn't have to worry about the blanket situation yet. Then again, every time he cracked his window to blow out a stream of smoke, he'd be letting precious heat escape, too.

Folding one arm against his steering wheel, he dropped his head onto it, muttering, "You're such a fucking idiot." and then, to his right, his phone chimed. He bolted upright, screaming, "You're a fucking _idiot_ , Sanji!" and lunged for his phone, relief and desperation nearly making him drop it down in the wedge between his center console and his seat. He caught it at the last minute, and laughed, somewhat hysterically, at the text from Luffy.

_where's MEAT??????_

A quick glance showed a single bar of reception holding on for dear life, and Sanji immediately flipped to a new message, typing out a desperate plea to Ace.

_I spun out and got stuck on West Side HWY. Send help before I fucking freeze to death._

He sent it, clutching his phone and waiting, biting down hard on his cigarette, and.... _Message Send Failure_.

"No," he whispered, and then he did drop his phone when sudden, loud thumping sounded next to his head. Barely swallowing down his scream, Sanji jumped when the fist slammed against his window again, and it was only at the insistent scrabbling at his door handle that he actually responded enough to turn the key in his ignition and start his car up again.

Cracking the window, he asked, "What the hell do you want?" at the same time as the stranger said, "Good, you're alive."

A couple of dark blue gloved fingertips pushed in through the crack in his window, and the man asked, "Is this stuck? Hey, are _you_  stuck?"

Unable to help himself, Sanji yelped, "No, idiot, I enjoy sitting in a ditch in seventy below fucking freezing weather! Of course I'm stuck!"

There was a beat of silence, and then the fingers withdrew, replaced by a pair of narrowed eyes. "You're an asshole for somebody who needs my help."

Because it was true, Sanji depressed the button to roll his window down the rest of the way, taking a deep drag on his cigarette as he did. Behind the guy, he could see an enormous, beat-up truck that he wouldn't have trusted to back around a corner, but the fact of the matter was that it was on the road and running fine, and Sanji's car was still sitting pretty in a pile of snow. He bit back the retort that he wanted to give, and instead ground the head of his cigarette into his ashtray, glancing back over as the other man surveyed the state his car was in.

"You kept spinning the wheels, didn't you?" he asked, deep disapproval in his tone. 

Feeling defensive, Sanji tugged his mittens back on, muttering, "What does it matter? Are you going to help me or not?"

"Yeah."

The guy reached up to rub a hand over his head, knocking his beanie back a few inches and revealing a slip of bright green hair. The sight of it jogged something in Sanji's memory, but he was sure he'd never met the man before, so he didn't comment on it. Instead, he climbed out of his car and grimaced at the skidlines in the snow from where he'd gone off-road, bringing his hands up to cup the back of his head.

Moving past Sanji, the man -- guy, Sanji mentally corrected, because he looked and sounded to be about his own age -- crouched down, shoving one gloved hand into the pile of snow around his driver side front tire. Because Sanji was already jittery and couldn't stand the silence, he leaned over to inspect the area himself, casting his shadow over the snow and tire both.

Impatiently, the mosshead griped, "Can't see when you do that. Well," he stood, and it was only because Sanji took a quick step back that he didn't knock into him, "at least you got mostly straight. Don't you have chains? You really should, car like this in this weather."

"If I had chains," Sanji began slowly, unsure if his teeth were chattering because of the rapidly dippping temperatures or his rapidly rising temper, "don't you think they'd be on my tires?"

Unamused brown eyes met his, and then the asshole had the audacity to chuckle, shaking his head. "Yeah, I guess. You already tried rocking it out?"

Tucking his hands into his armpits, Sanji glared, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Yes. Then the tires started spinning. I'm also getting pretty low on gas -- shut _up_."

"It's like you're trying to die!" Throwing his hands in the air, the guy turned back to the car, pointing. "Get in. I'm gonna give you a push, see if we can get you out of there. If you put it in reverse and run me over, I'm going to be really pissed."

"I wouldn't," Sanji snapped, shoulders hunched up defensively. For as helpful as this guy was actually being, he was still supremely pissing Sanji off, and it was difficult to remember that he was entirely at his mercy. "Thank you," he added, grudgingly, and the bastard only laughed again.

"Sure. Get in, it's fucking cold out here, and it's starting to snow again."

Sanji did so, and watched with a wary glance at his gas needle as the guy positioned himself at the back of his car. When he yelled, "Go, hold the wheel straight," Sanji did, but even with the guy pushing at the back, his car didn't get much further than it had previously before the tires started spinning. His would-be savior smacked at his trunk, telling him to stop, and Sanji groaned.

The guy stomped around to the driver's side of his car again, leaning into the window to say, "You might have to leave it -- whoa, that's a lot of food."

Blinking, Sanji glanced at the seat next to him and laughed humorlessly. "Yeah. I'm going to a party, and I'm in charge of... meat. Among other things."

He picked up his phone again and checked to see if any more messages had come through, and tried to send his text to Ace once more, but he'd lost the one bar of reception he had. With a weary sigh, he killed the ignition and got out again, holding his phone up and over his head in a vain attempt to get some kind of signal. "I don't suppose you've got any bars?"

"A bar?" The guy twisted, brow furrowed under the lip of his beanie. "Don't you have more important -- oh, you mean for the phone. I think mine's dead, sorry."

Sanji closed his eyes, gripping his phone tightly. "Of course the only person more unprepared for this situation is the one who stops to help me."

The door to the man's ancient truck creaked when he opened it, and he half-draped himself over the seat, rummaging around beneath it for a few minutes. Loudly, he called back, "You're welcome, by the way. I could've kept driving. I'm going to a party, too, and if I don't hurry up, my friend's going to eat everything before I get there."

“Sounds like Luffy,” Sanji muttered, distracted, as the man turned around with a dented up case in hand. “What’s that?"

“Chains,” he said proudly, pointing at Sanji’s car. “They should fit. I think we can get you out of here."

Gratitude rolled over him, shaming him for every uncharitable thought he’d had since the other guy had stopped to help him, and he smiled, clapping his hands together. “Thank God. I can pay you for them, or give you some food, or hell, both. You’ve saved Christmas. I’m Sanji, by the way, I can’t believe I didn’t introduce myself. Sorry, I’m not usually so rude, I was just… so stressed."

Confusion briefly flickered over the other man’s face, at odds with the color that the bite of winter had put in his cheeks, but he just nodded and said, “Zoro,” moving past Sanji and crouching beside his wheels. 

“Zoro,” Sanji repeated, resisting the urge to ask _like the masked swordsman_? but only barely. The guy probably got it all the time. “Thank you. I’m serious, I’ve got a little cash on hand, or…"

“Don’t worry about it,” Zoro grunted, making quick work of fastening the chains on his tires in turn. Without looking back, Zoro added, “Sometimes people just do nice shit. I couldn’t leave you stranded, curly brow."

The good will that had been slowly growing for his companion went up in smoke. “Curly brow? What the hell — I just told you my name!"

Zoro flashed a grin over his shoulders, bright and wicked. “I know. I changed my mind, irritating you is pretty fun. Maybe that’s my payment."

“Asshole,” Sanji breathed, shifting his weight from foot to foot as Zoro finished chaining up his tires. 

Hands on his hips, Zoro nodded toward the Lexus. “Start it up and give it another shot. I’ll get in the back and push again."

Miraculously, they managed to get his car free, and he might have let off the gas in shock if Zoro hadn't been flapping his arms wildly behind him, urging him to keep going until he got on the road. Once there, he threw the car in park and leaned out the window, relief making his smile giddy as he thumped the side of his car. "I'm free!"

Coming around to the driver's side window, Zoro grinned and fisted his hands on his hips. "Better get going if you want to make that party. Shit, I'm gonna be late, too."

"Take some food," Sanji said immediately, twisting and reaching for one of the small covered dishes laying on his floorboards. Before Zoro could protest, Sanji held it out the window, shoving it at his hands. "Take it. You're going to piss me off if you don't."

"Oh no," Zoro returned mildly, but took the dish, holding it a careful distance away. "What about your friends? This feels like... a lot of food."

Jerking his mittened thumb behind him, Sanji said, "The backseat's full too. Even Luffy will have enough to eat, I promise."

Zoro blinked, mouth dropping open a moment, and then asked, "Luffy? You're going to -- wow, you're going the wrong way, man."

His car's engine revved in the silence between them, and Sanji asked, "What?" before shaking his head. "No, I'm not. You know Luffy?"

Shifting the dish to one hand, Zoro pointed down the road in the direction his truck was facing. "Marco and Ace's place, right? They're that way. I'm headed to the Christmas party, too. Huh, you're the one bringing all the delicious food? Luffy's been talking about that for weeks."

Narrowing his eyes, Sanji waited a few beats for the punchline, or maybe for the Zoro to give in and admit that he was trying to fuck with him, but Zoro only continued to stare back at him expectantly. Slowly, tone lifting in incredulity, he asked, "You seriously think that Marco’s place is _that way_? As in, the way I just came from? Where I live."

"I don't know where you live," Zoro returned impatiently, rolling his eyes. "I just know you're going the wrong way. I came off North Pacific, and I turned right, which is the way I always go --"

"Turning right takes you to Riverside, moron--"

"No it _doesn't_ , it takes you to Ostrander--"

"Holy shit!" Sanji yelled, slamming his fist down on his steering wheel. His horn blared and Zoro jumped, nearly fumbling the dish. "You're so stupid! I'm telling you, I live in Riverside, and I literally just came from there. If you want to miss the party then by all means, have yourself a merry fucking Christmas, but if you want to make it sometime before three AM - which is generous, and assuming you'll figure out how wrong you are sooner rather than later - you'd better just follow me."

Zoro’s jaw set stubbornly, and for a moment, it looked like he was going to continue to dig in his heels. Sanji was ready to give up, too, and not just because his patience was running thin - his gas needle had dipped dangerously low, and he was already running late to the party. He inhaled deeply, opening his mouth to say so, when Zoro scowled and nodded.

“Fine. But only because you’re about to run out of gas, and I didn’t go through all this trouble so you could get stuck again two miles down the road."

Sanji had to remind himself that, despite the guy’s absolutely neanderthal manners and his idiotic faith in his own flawed sense of direction, he _had_  helped him out considerably. Through gritted teeth, he said, “Hallelujah,” and buckled himself in.

About half an hour later, pulling into the last makeshift parking spot in front of the house, Sanji barely waited for his engine to shut off before bounding out of his car and smirking at Zoro. He was sure the other man had realized a while ago that Sanji had saved him a lot of time, energy, and a huge headache, but there was no harm in rubbing it in a little.

“Welcome to the Christmas party you almost missed,” Sanji said cheerfully, gesturing behind him at the house, windows lit up invitingly.

Grunting, Zoro slammed his truck door. “If you want help hauling all that food, you’ll stop right there."

Sanji bit his lip, eyes dancing. “In about three seconds there’ll be—"

“FOOD!” 

The door burst open, bouncing off the wall, and a chorus of annoyed yelling followed after as Luffy took the stairs two at a time and came skidding to a stop next to them. 

“—someone to help,” Sanji finished smugly. “I brought plenty of food, and even picked up a rogue mossball on my way in."

“Oh, Zoro,” Luffy greeted absent-mindedly, clapping his friend on the shoulder as he passed on his way to the door. “Man, this smells great! We’ve been waiting for you. Come on."

“Yeah, Zoro,” Sanji said, passing a large covered dish into Zoro’s reluctant hands. “Come on. Everybody’s hungry. We can tell them how you were going the wrong way when I rescued you."

“Wrong way?” Usopp asked, joining the small crowd gathered around Sanji’s car, sounding far too amused. “That doesn’t sound like Zoro at all…” 

“Shut up,” Zoro snapped, cheeks pinking. “Or I’ll tell them about you getting stuck in a ditch with no gas."

The bickering continued through both trips from the car to the kitchen, through a bottle of beer in Zoro’s hand and a serving wedge wielded like a weapon in Sanji’s, and even when they ended up crammed onto the same couch for the gift exchange and apparent annual tradition of watching _Die Hard_  and playing drinking games. 

From where his feet were up in Marco’s lap, Ace asked, “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?"

Patting Ace’s ankles, Marco hummed in agreement. “Just a matter of time."


	2. Hang a Shining Star Upon the Highest Bough

It was taking him a fucking long time to get used to living alone.

Not that it was that much quieter than it had been when he’d been sharing space with the shitty old man, but there was a difference when your only family worth speaking of was two hours away instead of just two doors away. He’d been itching for independence and his own space since he’d first got his hot little hands on a driver’s license, but now that he was here — eighteen years old, in his own apartment, responsible for keeping his name on the lease to his glorified postage stamp — it was… a little overwhelming, if he was honest with himself.

Good, but overwhelming. Zeff had called him just about every synonym for idiot there was in the book for his decision, but he’d known as soon as he came into the first wave of his inheritance, there was only one thing he could do. 

He was tired of being a burden.

Still, money was tight; his mother had been rich but the coffers weren’t bottomless, and he was being frugal. That was why he had secondhand furniture, why he’d splurged only on the essentials: his KitchenAid, VitaMix, Instant Pot. His kitchen alone was worth more than two months’ rent, and it was _worth it_. If it meant he smoked cheap cigarettes for a while, so be it. He was smoking them under his own roof, doing things on his own terms, and it felt good.

(Felt a little lonely, too, but admitting that was a little beyond his capacity for self-reflection for the night, so he ignored it.)

Anyway, nothing was all good or bad, and he chose to focus on the good. The good right now was his apartment still around him, a warm mug of cocoa in his hands, and the pretty-ish view from his window. He was only on the second story, so it wasn’t like he could look over the city and take in everyone’s twinkling Christmas lights, but with a fresh layer of snow over the streets, the effect was almost picturesque. He could get used to this — to having the space to think, to not having to answer to anyone if he couldn’t sleep in the middle of the night, to never finding anyone else’s dirty dishes in the sink.

Once the rush of his newfound independence turned to isolation he’d probably be singing a slightly different tune, but for now, he was wholeheartedly embracing it. Anyway, Usopp was only a few floors up if he got really lonely, and thanks to last year’s Christmas party, he at least knew of plenty of people who lived in this building, even if he wasn’t outright friends with them yet. There’d be time for that after they’d tasted some of his cooking and come on bended knee, begging for more.

Smiling, he set his cocoa down and reached for the pack of cigarettes he’d discarded on his kitchen counter earlier that day. (That was another benefit to living alone — no shitty old geezers sniping at him that he’d kill all his taste buds before he came into his own as a chef.) 

Too lazy to bother bundling up for a quick smoke, Sanji fought and won against his sticky kitchen window and leaned out, cupping his hands around his face as he lit a cigarette. The sky was heavy and there was a definite calm to the air that promised more snow, annoying on one hand because he had to walk through it on his way to work, but charming in its own right for its proximity to Christmas. Luffy and the gang would be having their party on the day this year, and with Zeff busy at the Baratie, he had nothing better to do than show up with food and a generic secret santa present, just like last year.

Actually, he was a little afraid that if he didn’t show up with food Luffy would hunt him down and drag him there anyway. It was a little bit self-preservation, but mostly he just felt warm, and glad to be carving a space for himself in the rag-tag friend group Usopp had pulled him into. He took a long drag on his cigarette, closed his eyes, and began to mentally plan for the upcoming party.

Then the air right in front of his face was disturbed, and he heard a breathless “ _fuck_ ” whoosh past his face shortly before the sound of branches snapping.

Startled, he jumped and slammed his shoulders into his windowpane, dropping his cigarette in the process. It was dark enough that he could only make out the shape on the ground below him, shifting and groaning in the bushes, but there was thankfully enough light that he could tell it was a person and not some kind of terrible hellbeast or demented reindeer. Shoulders smarting, he debated for only a second before leaning out further, warmed and flushed from his brief surprise, and ask, “Are you alive?"

The lump of supposed person stilled, and then rolled onto its back, arms flopping spread-eagled to its sides. The light from his kitchen, though mostly blocked by his own body, cast just enough for Sanji to see a chagrined face and a surprisingly familiar tuft of green hair --

“Holy shit,” he couldn’t help but laugh, and then only laughed harder when the guy — Zoro — scowled and struggled to sit up. He was clutching something in his hands, lights presumably, but from the way he was fighting them, it looked like he’d managed to get himself tangled. “Listen, I can’t see you very well, I’m going to come down."

It didn't take long to find his slippers and a jacket, and he reasoned that he wouldn't be outside long enough to warrant actually putting his boots on, so he called it good and hustled down the stairs. By the time the brisk night air slapped him in the face, Zoro had managed to sit up and was massaging his chest with a grimace, looking winded but otherwise not worse for wear. That was a relief -- as flippant as he was prone to be, he actually had been worried, considering the guy had fallen from at least the third floor and hit the ground. 

Shit, the guy should probably be dead.

"Are you okay?" Sanji asked, crouching down in front of him and raising his hands, hovering awkwardly without touching. "Anything broken? That was a hell of a fall."

Zoro grunted, one hand splayed over his chest, and managed, "Knocked the wind out of me." in a measured, somewhat strained tone.

"That's it?" He could feel snow melting underneath his heels and creeping under the arches of his feet, and he scowled. "You could've at least broken something. I came all the way down here!"

Zoro's eyes went wide, and he dropped his hand, expression quickly flashing to indignant. "Shut up, asshole!"

"Come on." His decision to not put on actual boots was biting him on the ass, and without waiting for Zoro to actually agree, he grabbed one of the idiot's arms and hauled it over his shoulders. They were nearly of a height, give or take an inch, so it was easy enough to drag Zoro to his feet and steady him against his side. 

"I can walk," Zoro snapped, shoving away, and Sanji lifted his hands in mock surrender. "Nobody asked you to come down."

Annoyed, Sanji tucked his hands into his armpits. "You fell right in front of my face, dipshit. It would have ruined my Christmas if you'd died. Any normal, sane person would have checked on you."

Shoulders hunched inward slightly, Zoro headed for the door to their apartment complex. "I didn't die, so you can go back to whatever the hell you were doing at one in the morning with a clear conscience."

Appalled by the lack of manners, Sanji followed doggedly on Zoro's heels, curling his toes inside his slippers against the chill. "What are _you_  doing throwing yourself out of the window in the middle of the night, anyway? Are you trying to die?"

Zoro stopped short, one hand on the door frame, and looked over his shoulder with a peculiar smile. "Didn't I ask you that last year? When you were driving like a moron on no gas and got stuck in BFE?"

To be honest, it sounded familiar, but Sanji wasn't about to admit that. "I don't remember every detail of a conversation from a year ago! Though that sounds like something rude you'd say. You make a terrible first impression, by the way."

Zoro shrugged, tossing over his shoulder, "You made a worse first impression."

It wasn't actually much warmer inside the building, but once the door closed behind them it felt like it by simple virtue of cutting off the wind. Hunching his shoulders inward, Sanji demanded, "How do you figure? You helped me out of the ditch, sure, but if not for me, you would've missed the party. Did you knock some memories loose when you fell in that bush, moss for brains?"

Zoro's voice bounced off the walls of the stairwell, echoing annoyingly as he replied, "That's not the first time we met. But you were rude then, too."

Sanji was distracted enough by the obvious lie that he sailed right past the opening for his own floor, slippers slapping against the stairs to punctuate his words. "Uh, yeah it was. Now I'm actually a little worried."

Apparently unconcerned that Sanji was following him to his apartment, Zoro continued on, not bothering to look back. "I'm fine, curly. You're the one who seems to be lost this time, though."

His feet stuttered against the carpet, a little thrown, but he recovered quickly. "I'm just making sure you didn't rattle something important loose! Now that I think about it, that was a fucking long drop."

"Bush broke my fall," was all Zoro said, jiggling his doorknob a few times. Sanji watched, mildly horrified, as he braced his shoulder against the door, twisted the knob just so, and popped it open. 

"I feel so much better about the security of my new apartment," Sanji said dryly, and Zoro rubbed his shoulder, heading inside and leaving the door open in apparent invitation. "Are you -- whoa. Did Christmas throw up in here?"

It didn't look so much like decoration in progress as it did a complete disaster. It reminded him of the time Zeff had thrown a party at the house and he'd come down in the morning to find tinsel and broken ornaments everywhere, the tree propped awkwardly in the corner of the living room, and several of the Baratie's employees passed out all over the furniture. They'd cleaned it up to the soundtrack of the old man screaming in their ears and no doubt aggravating their hangovers, but it had been the first time he'd really seen the devastating after-effects of a party.

Having gone to a few of his own, and especially one thrown by Luffy and Ace, he could see now how his uncle's party had been tame. There was no excuse for the mess that was all over Zoro's floor, however, considering Christmas wasn't for two more days.

"I'm decorating," Zoro said slowly, eyebrows arched, as though Sanji were the dumb one. "I was hanging lights outside when I slipped."

He'd come far enough not to feel self conscious about letting himself the rest of the way in, pinching tinsel between his fingers as he asked absently, "You have a balcony? I thought those started higher up."

"I don't." Half-turning toward Sanji, Zoro nodded at the decoration in his hand. "You gonna help?"

"What do you mean you don't have a balcony?" Tinsel gripped between his hands like a rope, he stretched it taut, accidentally snapping it in half. "Are you insane? Did you just climb out the fucking window and start tacking lights up, you madman?"

Zoro's nose wrinkled. "I was stapling them. Anyway, it's good enough until morning out there. Gotta get the rest of this set up tonight, though, so if you want to stop breaking shit and help, you can stay. Otherwise, go get some sleep."

Sanji was no stranger to holiday cheer. He got pretty festive most years himself, and the thing he missed the most about Christmas this year, aside from not spending the week leading up to it decorating the restaurant with the guys, was the annual gingerbread competition. He'd still made one on his own, and he'd bring it with him to the restaurant for the party, but it wasn't the same. 

That being said, Zoro's apartment was a complete disaster.

"I feel like it's my civic duty to fix this," he announced, and then added, "Though I have no idea why it has to happen tonight. Are you having a party or something?"

He crouched down to drag a box from beneath the coffee table, pawing through the contents to get an idea of exactly what sort of materials he was working with as Zoro headed across the room for his tree. It was pretty standard fare, and it looked like most of it had come from the dollar store -- and judging by the stickers and plastic bags shoved into the couch cushions, a lot of it had been purchased fairly recently. 

"My sister's coming to visit."

Lifting his head curiously, Sanji asked, "Sister?" and then, trying to picture it, added, “She doesn’t look like you, does she?"

Zoro snorted. "No. She's -- it's complicated. We kind of grew up together, but her mom died and she moved back to Japan with her dad. I stayed here. We see each other every couple years when we can afford it."

It felt like more than Zoro particularly wanted to share with him, though he wasn't being curt, per se. It might have just been the fact that his back was to Sanji, or the combative nature of their short acquaintanceship that made him think that, though. Regardless, if anyone knew about found family, it was Sanji, and he found himself softening just a bit toward the rough-mannered imbecile.

"That's nice. And it's also nice she doesn't look like you," he added, snickering when Zoro turned to glare at him. "What? You would make one ugly chick."

Zoro flipped him off in reply, and Sanji just laughed.

"Tell me about her," he suggested, kicking off his slippers so that his feet could dry out and warm a bit. 

Suspiciously, Zoro asked, "Why?" as he came over to scoop tinsel out of the box Sanji held.

Deadpan, Sanji returned, "Because I'm going to ask her to marry me when she shows up. Why do you think, genius? What else are we going to talk about?"

Zoro had blanched at Sanji's declaration, and now his face was settled into a deep scowl. "You're not gonna have a chance to hit on my sister because you're not meeting her. Anyway, she'd kick your ass," he added, expression brightening at the thought.

"Maybe I'm into that," Sanji shot back, dancing out of reach when Zoro made a disgusted face and swiped at him. "Kidding! Sort of. So, she and her dad are from Japan originally? How'd you meet?"

Zoro's mouth twisted as he turned, busying himself with winding tinsel around the tree in haphazard lines. "Her dad ran a dojo here. I got involved as an extra curricular when I was going to school."

Sanji waited a few beats, setting up an eerie looking Santa and flicking glitter off his fingers from the snowflakes he arranged around it. "It's like pulling teeth with you, isn't it? So you met at the dojo, became close enough you call each other brother and sister."

There was more of a story there, but Sanji knew when he was treading delicate ground, so he didn't ask the obvious question: _Where were your parents_? It surprised him a little that he wanted to know, but he reasoned with himself that it was only because he had a fucked up relationship with his family, too. It was always interesting to hear about the ways other people's families were completely shitty. Sometimes it made him feel better about his own.

Mostly, it just made him sad.

“Yeah,” Zoro said finally, in a tone that implied he was done with the conversation.

He could have just left it there, but that ran the risk of them falling into an awkward silence while they finished decorating Zoro’s apartment. (Just leaving him to his own devices wasn’t an option — Sanji had said he would help, and when he gave his word, he followed through.) So, he took a deep breath and crouched down to dig through the bag of ornaments Zoro was working from, keeping his voice purposefully light.

“I guess I’m interested because my mother was Japanese. She died when I was about eight.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Zoro stiffen and then relax, and made it a point to focus only on the task at hand. “My father wasn’t very interested in the culture, so I don’t know much about all of that."

They worked in silence for a while, decking out Zoro’s pitiful Christmas tree to the best of their combined ability, and when they ran out of ornaments, Sanji stepped back to get a better look at the result. It wasn’t… horrible, but it wasn’t great, either. For whatever ass o’clock hour in the morning it had gotten to, though, it was just about a damn miracle.

“That’s as good as it gets, craphead,” Sanji announced, bringing a hand up to cover his face as he yawned. “When does your sister get in?"

Zoro frowned at him, though it was difficult to determine whether it was due to the insult or the question — and even more difficult to muster up the energy to care either way. “Nine. You sleeping here or what?"

“Why would I—“ His fatigue went up in a puff of smoke as he slapped his hands down against his thighs, realizing he’d worn his pajama bottoms outside and closed the door behind him. Had he locked it? He’d been in such a hurry to make sure this idiot wasn’t lying in a broken heap that he couldn’t remember. “Shit. I don’t think I locked myself out. Maybe?"

To Sanji’s utter dismay, Zoro chuckled. “Super will have your ass if you call in the middle of the night. Just crash on my couch. I’ll wake you up when I go pick up Kuina, and if you’re locked out, you can take care of it then."

“Or I can check right now and sleep in my own bed."

“You can try, but if you leave, I’m not getting up to let you back in.” Zoro’s eyebrows went up. “I’m tired. Take it or leave it, curly."

He was about ninety percent sure that he’d left his door unlocked, which would be problematic at best if anyone decided to go rattling the doorknobs down his hall, but something about the look on Zoro’s face made him one hundred percent sure that even if he hadn’t, he’d rather sleep outside it like a damn dog than curl up on his couch.

“Hard pass,” he said flatly, somehow even more annoyed when Zoro merely shrugged and started to pull off his shirt. “What the hell? At least wait until I’m out of your house to get naked, you animal!"

“My place, my rules,” Zoro grunted, wadding up his shirt and tossing it carelessly onto the very sofa that had been offered to Sanji. Yeah, he’d made the right decision. “Nice slippers, by the way."

“They’re very comfortable!” Stomping over to them, Sanji shoved his feet into the (still damp, eugh) slippers and flipped Zoro’s back the bird. “Don’t get lost picking your sister up, shit-for-brains."

Zoro’s shoulders tensed, and Sanji was momentarily distracted by the way it made the muscles in his back bunch nicely. “Shut up! And go to bed!"

“Ungrateful brute."

“Whiny meddler."

It turned out Sanji hadn’t locked himself out of his apartment, but he maintained that he would’ve rather slept in the hall than up on Zoro’s couch, even though it took him hours to fall asleep in the comfort of his own bed.


	3. Snowin' and Blowin' up Bushels of Fun

There were a lot of times when you wouldn’t want Usopp on your team, necessarily. He wasn't a bad guy; on the contrary, he was one of Sanji’s best friends, and had been his only friend for the first few years after he’d moved in with Zeff. Sanji probably wouldn’t be able to find a more loyal or witty person if he tried, and it was actually thanks to Usopp that he knew about the apartment complex he was living in now to begin with, much less got the lease when push came to shove.  

What he liked best about Usopp at the moment, however --

“Right in the jingle bells!” He yelled, lifting his hand and whooping as Luffy made a truly horrifying noise and hit the ground, sending snow spraying up in a cloud around him. “Usopp, you’re a fucking sniper!"

From his left, Usopp sounded strangled as he whispered, “He shouldn’t have jumped… I wasn’t aiming for that."

“You’re going down!” Two snowballs whizzed past Sanji’s head, Ace’s laughter chasing them. “How’m I gonna be an uncle if you keep hitting like that?"

“I don’t want kids!” Luffy’s head popped back up from the snow, gloves eagerly packing snow down. “Maybe Sabo do—"

Another snowball nailed him in the chest, Usopp immediately diving back behind cover after letting it loose, and Sanji laughed again. He was distracted by Luffy, though, and didn’t notice when Ace disappeared, which was never a good sign. Of the two of them, Ace was definitely the wilier of the two; Sanji wouldn’t put it past him to sneak around their fortifications entirely and attack them from the back.

He turned suspiciously, snowball in hand, just in case. Movement caught the corner of his eye, and he let instinct take over, hurling his snowball as hard and fast as he could in Ace’s direction.

Except it wasn’t Ace that he hit.

It was Zoro. Right in the face, as he came around the corner to see what was going on. His snowball exploded magnificently, loose-packed as it was, and he was fleetingly grateful for that fact. (As much as Zoro got on his nerves, he didn’t actually want to _hurt_  the man. Usually.)

“Oh shit,” Sanji breathed, trying to smother a laugh at the comically confused and outraged look on Zoro’s face. “I didn’t actually — you got in the way—"

Leaning around Sanji’s shoulder, Usopp’s eyes went wide. “Oh man, not Zoro."

Unable to do much but helplessly laugh, Sanji lifted his hands and waved them frantically at Zoro, whose expression became more forbidding and then, very suddenly, cleared. Sanji should have seen the danger in the amused flash of his grin, but even if he had, he wouldn’t have been able to react fast enough; one moment, he was still catching his breath, and the next, he was screaming bloody murder.

“Ace! What the hell — shit — you fucker!” Wild, uneven laughter accompanied the fistfuls of snow down his back, and Sanji twisted, kicking at Ace’s feet. “Usopp! Where were you?"

From considerably further away than he would have expected, Usopp yelled, “I, uh, just remembered, I left… I didn’t feed my cat!"

Engaged in a furious game of footsie with Luffy’s older brother, Sanji bellowed, “You don’t have a cat, you coward!” 

“Three against one!” Luffy screamed, and that was all the warning Sanji received before a red blur impacted his midsection and slammed him into the ground.

About thirty seconds later, he was being slapped awake and blinking dazedly into a pair of dark, concerned eyes. The furrow between Zoro’s brow disappeared as soon as Sanji’s swimming vision focused on it, and in the silence that followed, he came to two very distinct realizations: 

  1. A man was straddling him.
  2. He was okay with it, which made him distinctly _not_  okay with it, and was entirely responsible for him bucking Zoro off his lap and shouting at him.



“Get off!” To his right, Luffy was spread-eagle in the snow, Ace standing above him with an exasperated look as he scolded him for making Sanji black out for a few seconds. “Jesus."

Zoro rolled off the top of him, also flinging his arms out to his sides. “He’s fine."

Staring up at the sky, breath misting above him, Sanji wondered if that was true.


	4. As Cuddly as a Cactus

"I'll see you in just a little while!" Clasping Pudding's hands tightly in his own, Sanji pressed a kiss to each of her cheeks, making her laugh when he did the same to the tip of her nose. "I wish you were coming with us."

"I know, but I'll be right at the lodge, with cocoa and treats ready when you come back." A becoming blush swept over her cheeks, and she took her hands back, patting his arms a couple of times with an indulgent smile. "You're going to miss your spot in line!"

The girls were already in line, and so were Chopper, Usopp, and Luffy; in fact, the only spot for a chair left was with Zoro, unless he wanted to ride up with strangers. It was tempting, and he might have just begged off and gone back down to the lodge with Pudding if he and Zoro hadn't gotten into it on their way up the mountain. Unfortunately, now he had to show the idiot gorilla how to ski properly. Pudding was the perfect, wonderful sort of girl who didn't mind him spending a little time with his friends, though, and to be honest, he also wanted to give her a bit of a break.

The crew were great people, but they could be a little much sometimes.

"Get over here if you're sitting with me," Zoro yelled, and Sanji scowled, twisting to flip Zoro off. (Well, to try. Mittens made it difficult. He figured he got the general idea across, though, if Zoro's sneer was anything to go by.)

"Go, go," Pudding insisted, and he swooped in to give her one last kiss on the mouth, his own face heating as she swatted at him and backed away. 

He was looking forward to skiing, even if he wouldn't have his darling Pudding at his side when he did it, though, so his spirits weren't impossibly dampened as he made his way over to stand next to Zoro. The line was moving fairly quickly, he supposed, but not fast enough for the fact that he had to stand beside his idiot friend the entire time -- especially considering Zoro had been acting _weird_  ever since he'd invited Pudding along for their winter vacation.

Just remembering the look on his face when he'd announced that his girlfriend would be coming along annoyed Sanji all over again, and he turned, eyes narrowed. "Ready to eat snow, amateur?"

Zoro's gaze slid to him, but he didn't move his head much, gripping his ski poles loosely in his right hand. "Whatever you say. You'll probably get distracted by some pretty girl and eat it."

"How dare you!" Sanji's shout caused a few heads to turn in their direction, but he barely noticed. "My sweet, adorable girlfriend is on her way down to the lodge to get snacks and cocoa ready for us, and you're implying I would have eyes for another woman."

"Well." Zoro turned to face him fully, expression serious as he considered him. "Eye. Your dumb hair blocks one--"

"You piece of--"

"Boys!" Robin's voice rang clear and calm between them, instantly yanking Sanji back from tether's edge of his temper. "You wouldn't want to be asked to leave, would you? We probably shouldn't fight in line for the lift."

They shuffled forward in unison, still glaring at one another. "You're lucky Robin is so sensible."

"Yeah, she saved you from embarrassing yourself."

"Knock it off, or I'm going to kick you out of line myself!" Nami turned to glare at them both, pointing a finger accusingly between them. "You're both being stupid."

It cost him, for just a moment, but Sanji swallowed the instinctive need to smack the smug look off Zoro's face and turned to face straight ahead, clutching his ski poles tightly. "Of course, Nami. I'm sorry. I don't want to ruin your ski trip."

"But nobody minds ruining ours," Usopp muttered from the head of the group, groaning when Luffy jostled him. "Hey, knock it off! No swinging on the chairs, okay? I don't want to die!"

The conversations around them faded to white noise as they waited for their turn, Sanji's thoughts purposefully on Pudding rather than the annoyance to his side. He hears the girls whoop when their turn arrives and they're scooped up into their chair, and he can't help but smile at them fondly; with Chopper wedged between them, they make a postcard-perfect picture as they start up the mountain. Sometimes, his heart still twinges a little when he thinks about Nami and how soundly she'd turned him down that first Christmas party, but in the years since, they've managed to find a steady sort of friendship that he values greatly. She tells him that it helps they only see each other at the annual Christmas parties, and he's a bit mortified to know that's true.

Aside from Pudding, he hasn't actually met many women who respond well to his overt displays of affection. For a while, he'd wondered if he never would, and had honestly begun to make an effort to curb his effusive praise (and, as Nami had put it, overbearing posturing). He credits Pudding being interested at all in him to that, actually; she's so delicate and sweet that he probably would have scared her off if he'd been as intense and forward as he usually was when presented with a pretty girl.

His face must have softened just thinking about the girls, because Zoro's voice shattered his pleasant reverie with a blunt, "What's got that dumb look on your face?"

Lip curling, Sanji twisted. "Unlike you, I have pleasant things to think about."

"Yeah, like your girlfriend," he muttered, rolling his eyes and looking away.

"Don't be jealous, you shitty-" Sanji lurched forward, his free hand clamping down on the bar in front of him as the chair swung hard once and then stopped. Eyes wide, he immediately turned to make sure his friends were all right, asking as he did, "What the hell?"

"We're stuck."

"Obviously! But that doesn't _happen_. People don't just get _stuck_  on these things, stupid!" From a few chairs up, Usopp and Chopper were competing to see whose voice could rise to the shrillest heights, and he could hear several people trying to soothe them. "It'll get started up again in just a minute."

"I'm not worried." Zoro's hand curled around the bar next to his, though, his glove bumping up against Sanji's mitten. "Hey. Don't worry."

Shame and embarrassment flooded him, swallowing up the apprehension he'd begun to feel and obliterating it entirely. "I'm not worried! Or if I am, it's only for the girls! It'll be okay, Nami, Robin!"

"You know, a woman once got stuck on a gondola for five hours," Robin's voice carried remarkably well, despite the fact that she was saying the last thing any of them wanted to hear. There was a very heavy silence, and then she added, "But she was fine. They realized she was stuck and rescued her."

"See, we'll be fine," Sanji called out, forcing cheer into his voice. “And Pudding is going to have cocoa and treats waiting for us!"

Zoro exhaled next to him, keeping his voice low. “That sounds like a desperate _we’re not gonna die I hope_.” 

“Fuck you,” Sanji breathed, turning to Zoro with a tight, unhappy look. “Would it kill you to be pleasant for five seconds?"

“To you?” He looked thoughtful, lower lip sliding out as he drummed his fingers. His pinky tapped Sanji’s hand, and that pissed him off more than the look on Zoro’s face. “Dunno. Better not risk it."

He decided to ignore Zoro, and instead focus on all the completely reasonable explanations for why the lift would have stopped with all of them on it. Last time this happened, he remembered his brothers teasing him mercilessly for being afraid, and Reiju not being much better, come to think of it. She had told him after the fact that someone had probably just dropped something, or that maybe because the mountain was so windy they’d decided to pause the lifts for a little bit. That one hadn’t made much sense to him at eight years old, but he’d bowed to his sister’s age and wisdom, and he clearly hadn’t died from it.

Shit, if he died on a ski lift next to Zoro of all people, he was going to personally kick God’s ass.

He groaned, closing his eyes, and to his surprise, Zoro said suddenly, “Tell me about your girlfriend."

Suspicious, Sanji cracked open one eye and demanded, “Why? You’ve done nothing but mock me for _having_  a girlfriend since I introduced you all."

“That’s about you, not her!” Zoro lifted his hand and waved it at Sanji’s face. “If you don’t want to talk about her, fine. We can just sit in silence until the ski lift starts back up or we freeze to death."

“Pudding,” Sanji began, half-hopping in his seat so that he could face Zoro more fully, “is amazing. She’s classy, adorable, and has the cutest laugh in the world. She works in her family’s bakery, and even your rotten palate would be able to appreciate her baked goods."

“Not if they’re sweets, I wouldn’t."

Talking over the top of him, Sanji continued. “She has an enormous family and she’s so devoted to them. To her mother most of all,” he added, an honest smile curling his lips. “That’s one of the things that drew me to her to begin with. She’s so… perfect."

Unimpressed, Zoro said, “Nobody’s perfect, shit cook."

“Perfect for me,” he corrected, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck. “Actually, we’ve been dating for six months tomorrow… it’s been hard, since she lives an hour away, and between work and school… why am I telling you this?” Snorting, Sanji dropped his hand. “You don’t care."

Zoro blinked once, brow furrowing. “I didn’t say that."

“You didn’t have to.” He flicked his hand at Zoro dismissively, settling back as comfortably as he could into the seat. “What about you? Not that I can think of a woman with a gentle enough heart to endure your personality, now that I think about it—"

“There’s no one.” This was delivered flatly. “You know, I’ve been trying to distract you so you wouldn’t freak out, but I think I’m just gonna let you freak out.” 

The idea that Zoro had been being his usual obnoxious self for any reason other than because he wanted to was so preposterous that he didn’t know what to say for a moment. By the time a retort came to him, the lift jerked back to life, and whatever he would have said was drowned by the cheers of his friends.

“I didn’t need to be distracted,” Sanji said, scowling, once the shouting died down.

Zoro ignored him.


	5. You Better Watch Out, You Better Not Cry

The last thing Zoro wanted to do at one in the morning on Christmas Day was answer his phone 

No, that wasn’t fair; the last thing he wanted to do was answer his phone when the call was coming from _Sanji_. The guy had been waxing poetic about how he was going to propose to his girlfriend all through their annual Christmas party, and Zoro really didn’t need a play-by-play of how the evening had gone down. It was one thing for him to know that the idiot blond was off the market and that the stupid crush he’d been holding onto for the past few years was going to amount to nothing. It was something else entirely to have his nose rubbed in it.

“Stupid,” he muttered, closing his eyes. So he had a… crush, on this guy, so what? They were still sort of friends. It only flared up really badly when they spent a lot of time together, and he could live with it. He’d survived the stupid ski trip last year, and he was a big enough man to just want Sanji to be happy.

Just as the phone would have flipped the call over to voicemail, he connected it, trying not to sound annoyed. “What?"

“Let me in."

Zoro blinked, pulling his phone back to check the caller ID again. It sounded like Sanji, but it also didn’t; there was a wooden, flat quality to his voice that he’d never heard from the hot-tempered, lively cook before. “You locked out of the building or something?"

Rather than an answer, there were two short knocks on his front door. 

A little worried, then, Zoro crossed over and opened the door, eyebrows rising swiftly and then dropping into a deep frown when he took in the sight on his doorstep. It was Sanji, true enough, but he looked like _shit_. In one hand, his phone was pressed to his ear, and in the other, an opened bottle of liquor was hooked between two fingers, swaying lazily as he twisted his wrist back and forth. He looked like he’d just come from a fancy party, but he got his ass kicked along the way; he was wearing a nice silk button-down, but the top few were undone, his tie loose and sloppy. On a bad day, he’d never seen Sanji look quite so disheveled, but on what ought to have been the best day of his life?

Well, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that something had gone really fucking wrong. What it was going to take a genius to decipher, though, was why he’d come to Zoro’s apartment.

The silence had stretched long enough that Sanji lowered his phone, staring at Zoro with a carefully blank expression. “I lost my keys. Is that offer for your couch still open?"

“Uh,” Zoro said, very eloquently.

Sanji lifted the bottle and shook it. “I come bearing booze."

Stepping back automatically, Zoro gestured for Sanji to come inside. Part of him wanted to ask what the hell had happened, and as soon as the thought occurred to him, he dismissed it. If Sanji wanted to talk about whatever had gone down to make him look like that and show up at Zoro’s apartment, of all places, he would. All he’d asked for so far was a spot on the couch, and Zoro wouldn’t push him.

Sanji dropped heavily onto the aforementioned couch, kicking his shoes off and immediately uncorking his bottle again. He took a long pull, eyes shut tight, and then offered it to Zoro wordlessly.

“Thanks,” Zoro murmured, sitting down on the couch beside him. The air between them was heavy and uncomfortable, made worse by the fact that he didn’t know what to do. No one came to Zoro for comfort for good reason — and then it hit him: of course not. Sanji didn’t want comfort, did he? That was why he was there in the first place.

It had been a while since he drank vodka straight from the bottle, and what Sanji had brought over was sweeter than what he normally drank, but he took a mouthful anyway and passed it back.

“You’re not going to ask, are you?” Sanji’s words hovered on the edge of a laugh, but there was a desperate quality to it. “That’s surprisingly nice of you."

Zoro turned, studying Sanji’s profile. His jaw was tight, eye still closed, and he was clearly braced for something. Anger swelled in him, not entirely for Sanji; he hadn’t done a very good job of being a friend, had he, if the guy was expecting him to kick him while he was down. 

“If you want to talk, I’ll listen,” Zoro settled for, and Sanji turned to look at him, surprise clear on his face. He’d already worked his way through about a third of the bottle, so his gaze was a little unfocused, but steady enough to meet and hold Zoro’s. “Or if you just want to sit, we can do that."

Sanji stared back at him, unblinking, and then clenched his teeth, breathing in deeply through his nose. “I… thanks. She, uh. She said yes."

Something heavy dropped in Zoro’s stomach, and for just a moment, he hated himself for it. “Thought that was what you wanted?"

“Me too.” Sanji licked his lips, taking another mouthful of vodka and swallowing hard. “It’s fucking _stupid_. I should have known, you know? That’s how things work in my family. That’s why I left in the first goddamn place, that’s why I… _shit."_

Zoro watched Sanji wrap both hands around the bottle and lean forward slightly, and was struck with a powerful urge to do something. He didn’t know what, though, and that frustrated him into inaction.

His silence didn’t seem to bother Sanji, though. “I’m really fucking rich. Did you know that?"

Zoro didn’t. He blinked and opened his mouth to answer, but Sanji continued to talk, almost as though he’d forgotten he was talking to anyone.

“My mom’s money. It went into trust for all of us kids when she died, and there’s… I get money, once a month. Covers rent, school, a little extra. How else would an eighteen year-old afford to live on their own, right? That shitty old geezer told me I was being stupid, to save it up and be smart, but I wanted to be on my own so badly. Stupid,” his voice dropped to a whisper, and he brought a hand up, twisting it in his hair. “I was tired, you know? Tired of being a burden. I knew, I _knew_  that was why my old man started talking to me again. He hadn’t given a shit since mom died, why would he care now… but…"

Sanji’s voice had gotten progressively smaller, words coming rougher, and Zoro’s hand hovered between them. _Say something_  rebounded in his head, a furious shout, but his tongue felt like a rubber mat.

“… but I didn’t want to be that person who didn’t give him a chance, you know? I met Pudding when I was visiting.” He was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was harsh. “I thought: how perfect. No matter how awkward and horrible it is to visit my family, at least I can see Pudding, too."

Tears slipped down Sanji’s cheeks, and he rubbed hastily at his face. Zoro’s heart clenched painfully hard, his own hand curling into a fist as he slowly lowered it to the sofa between them. “She just wanted your money,” he said, anger knotting up hard in his chest. 

“Got it in one.” Sanji lifted the bottle to salute Zoro, its contents sloshing with the abrupt gesture. “Her mom’s in a lot of debt. They’re going to lose everything. I get a huge payout from the trust when I get married, so…"

“What a bitch,” Zoro said finally, reaching for the bottle and taking it from Sanji with minimal resistance. “You loved her."

“Don’t talk about her like that,” Sanji snapped, looking like himself for the first time since he’d shown up at Zoro’s door. “She was in a difficult position, and she… she told me the truth. When I proposed. She said yes, and then she started to cry, and it all came out. She’s a good person,” he insisted, rubbing the heel of his hand under his eyes again.

“Amazing.” Fury banked his tone, hardened the look on his face. “She admitted to you that she was just after your money, broke your _heart_ , and you’re sitting here defending her to me. She lied to you. She lied to all of your _friends_."

“She also told the truth,” Sanji countered, face flushed. “She made a mistake, but she didn’t let it get too far. Just — nevermind. Let’s just drink. I don’t want to get into this with you."

Of course it wouldn’t be as simple for Sanji. He loved her, and everything was still fresh for him. Hell, he’d probably gone straight from the party, got a bottle of liquor, and walked back to the apartments. The first person he’d come to was Zoro, and here he was… getting angry with the guy for being fucked up.

Zoro breathed in, breathed out, and set the bottle down on the floor. “I’m sorry."

“I said I don’t want to-"

“No, I’m sorry for what I said. About her.” He gritted his teeth, hands atop his knees. “You don’t need that right now. You want to get shitfaced?"

“Yeah.” Sanji’s voice caught, and though he’d begun to cry again, Zoro didn’t mention it. “I want to get absolutely fucking trashed."

In the morning, Sanji made breakfast, Zoro brewed coffee, and neither of them talked about it.


	6. Baby, it's Cold Outside

It was the first year that Zoro could both afford the trip to see Kuina and that he’d managed to get time off around the holidays for it, so of course, the weather was completely fucked.

He’d barely made it into the airport as it was, but he’d stubbornly insisted on going, because the only thing that was going to keep him from boarding a plane to Japan was that plane not taking off. Unfortunately, as more and more snow came down, it was starting to look like that would be the case. Worse than that, the roads were getting to be so bad that people were planning on camping out at the airport. The only thing that could possibly be worse than missing his flight out would be having to stay over at the airport until Franky got off work and could pick him up again.

Digging in his back pocket, he stared hard at his cell phone, then back to the arrivals/departures board. The entire list of flights was flashing CANCELED, and he wanted to scream, but he know it wouldn’t do him any good.

He almost did scream when his phone started to vibrate in his hand, _cook_   _calling_ … displayed prominently. He accepted the call and stepped away from the board, shoulders hunched up. “What? I’m at the airport."

“I know, idiot.” Sanji’s voice was exasperated. “Franky called earlier and said he’d dropped you off, because you’re a stubborn moron. You know your flight isn’t going out today."

Another wave of helpless anger rose in him, and Zoro snapped, “So did you just call to point out the obvious? Because I will fucking hang up."

“No,” Sanji shouted, possibly (correctly) assuming Zoro was lowering his phone to do just that. “Jesus. I’m here to get you. These roads are totally fucked, so get out here. I’m not paying for parking, and I don’t want to circle twenty times like a jackass."

“You’re here?” Zoro asked dumbly, turning as though he expected to see Sanji standing right behind him. “In your shitty car?"

“Didn’t I just say that? Grab your bags, or if you can’t get them, you can pick them up later. Just come on before we both get snowed in. That’ll really piss me off."

Warmth bloomed in his chest, not quite enough to overwhelm the disappointment of not being able to fly out to see Kuina and Koshiro, but enough for him to recognize it and be grateful. No one had asked Sanji to come get him — well, maybe Franky had — but he was here, anyway. Whining and cussing up a storm about it, acting like it was the most inconvenient thing in the world for him to be doing, but he was still here.

That was just the kind of guy Sanji was. Sometimes he forgot that, but that didn’t make it any less true. When they really needed someone, it seemed like the two of them were always the first ones to step up for each other. 

“Fine, I’m coming. I’ll be at the Delta drop off.” Zoro hung up before Sanji could respond, something he was sure he’d get bitched at for as soon as he got in the car, but he didn’t care much. Sanji would find something to needle him about regardless; might as well make it easy.

Unfortunately, a great deal of people had the same idea that he did, and the line to even begin to ask about his baggage was horrendous. With the way the snow was still coming down, Zoro didn’t want to gamble, and so he just went out to the curb to wait to be picked up. Traffic was inching along, but Sanji managed to get to him before he froze to the sidewalk, and the punch of the heat blasting the moment he slid into the car was almost uncomfortable.

“Couldn’t get your bags, huh?” Sanji asked, sounding almost sympathetic as he flipped his blinker on and began easing away from the curb. “ _You assholes better let me out._ You hungry?"

Zoro, hat already in his lap and halfway through taking his scarf off, didn’t hear. It was only when Sanji snapped his fingers in front of his face that he realized a question had been asked. “What?"

“Are you hungry? There’s food by your feet.” Sanji took the opportunity to pull out, pissing someone behind them off enough to honk, but he only flipped them off and kept going. “Chowder and some bread to dunk in it. Don’t spill all over my car, or I’ll kick your ass."

He hadn’t realized he was starving until he muscled open the container and smelled the food, and just then, Sanji was his favorite person in the world. He was still beyond disappointed that he’d now be bumping around his apartment alone for a week, but at least it wasn’t the airport, and he had good food, and a friend who’d come to get him before he’d even had to ask, so… things weren’t so bad.

He wolfed down the chowder, barely taking the time to breathe much less savor it, and settled a hand over his stomach when it was gone. “Thanks. That hit the spot."

Sanji’s eyes flicked over to him very briefly, but there was a small curl of a smile on his face. “I figured you’d only eaten vending machine food since you got there, since you’re too cheap to buy anything at the restaurants."

“They charge an arm and a leg for a gas station sandwich!" Zoro burst, making Sanji laugh. “Shut up. You know I’m right."

“You are,” Sanji agreed, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as they joined traffic on the interstate, barely going thirty-five miles an hour. “But I’m still going to give you shit for it." 

They lapsed into silence as they made the way back home, the trip three times as long as usual and neither particularly inclined to talk. Sanji was focused on driving and watching out for everyone else on the road, because inclement weather always meant people driving like idiots — and he ought to know, Zoro thought, because the second time they’d met, Sanji had been one of those idiots. Zoro was never very talkative to begin with, but trading disappointed texts with Kuina only made it worse, and he found himself just wanting to go home. Whether he sensed the mood or not, Sanji flipped the radio to music that was easy to listen to, and partway through the drive home, began to sing along softly, almost absently.

They slid around a little on black ice when they got to city streets, but Sanji managed to get them home in one piece. They took the stairs side by side, and when Zoro would have kept going to the next floor, Sanji reached out and gripped his elbow lightly.

“Hm?” Zoro frowned down at where Sanji’s fingers curled around his arm. 

“Come inside,” he said, giving Zoro’s arm a tug when he hesitated. “Zoro. It’s miserable and cold, and you’ve just had a shitty night. Come hang out with me. I’m decorating gingerbread houses."

That slow-growing warmth unfurled further, reaching his face this time. “What?"

That strange half-smile came back to Sanji’s face. “Gingerbread houses. I’m going to see Zeff this year, and I always bring a gingerbread house. They haven’t had time to do it this year, so he asked me to bring a few. You can decorate some to pay me back for the trip to pick you up."

“Nobody asked you to do that,” Zoro pointed out, nevertheless turning to follow Sanji out of the stairwell and into the hall. “And don’t only little old ladies decorate gingerbread houses?"

Sanji jiggled his keys and glared over his shoulder. “No. People of all ages do it. And I made the gingerbread myself, so they’re going to be delicious, too."

His apartment was warm (no doubt warmer than Zoro’s would have been, considering he had planned to be gone for a week and had shut off his heat accordingly) and Zoro took his shoes off immediately, setting his backpack down next to them. “Why do I care what they taste like? Aren’t you taking them to some party?"

Sanji hung his coat up, tugging the sleeves down so that they laid straight, and asked casually, “You have somewhere better to be, suddenly? Because if you play your cards right, you can tag along when I drop these off."

Sanji’s back was to him, and Zoro couldn’t help the stupid smile that slowly grew on his face. “You asking me to be your plus one, curly?"

A few jars hit the counter with more force than necessary. “I just didn’t want to think about you being a sad, lonely sack over Christmas!"

Coming up beside him, Zoro grinned and reached for a jar of gum drops. “They cook as well as you do?"

Disgust lacing his features, Sanji demanded, “Do you only think with your stomach? That’s where _I_ learned how to cook."

“I thought you were going to culinary school for that."

Sanji waved his hand dismissively. “I’m learning things there, sure, but my foundation? That was all that geezer. Unfortunately, you have to have a piece of paper to wave around for anyone to take you seriously.” 

“Sucks,” Zoro agreed, gathering up a few more containers and following Sanji to the kitchen table. “So, you just frost them and stick candy on them? What’s the big deal?"

Closing his eyes, Sanji set down all of his containers and pointed to a chair. “Take a seat. You’re about to take Gingerbread 101, free of charge, with the illustrious Sanji Vinsmoke. Listen and learn, moss head, because there will be a quiz at the end."

Sanji insisted that he send pictures to Kuina of their finished houses, and somehow, Zoro ended up sending her a couple of selfies, too. She didn’t respond until he was back in his own apartment, letting the place heat up while he took a shower, and he was glad his skin was already flushed when he read what she had to say.

_Who’s the hot blond? Nice catch, bro._


	7. Snowflakes That Stay on my Nose and Eyelashes

An ice rink opened up in town, and as a group, they all decided to go. It was partially a strength in numbers sort of thing, because no one wanted to be responsible for the potential property damage if Luffy, Sabo, and Ace were all let loose at the same time without supervision, but also an excuse for all of them to get together outside of their annual holiday party. The only ones who actually knew how to skate were Robin, Nami, Marco, and, apparently, Sanji, who seemed to be struggling to split his time between showing off for the girls and skating circles around Zoro, who was clearly _not_ adept at ice skating.

He was going to lift his skate and stab Sanji in the calf if he skidded past him and did another sit spin or whatever the hell they were called, and he wasn’t even going to feel bad about it. Every time he caught Sanji out of the corner of his eye, he managed to become about twice as awkward and clumsy as he was when no one was looking, and he’d fallen on his ass twice.

_Twice_.

He did kendo, for God’s sake. He could be graceful when he wanted to be! The fact that he found this so difficult and that it brought the cook so much joy to see it was going to drive him completely insane.

“You need some help, mossball?” Sanji asked, skating backward in front of him, an infuriating smirk on his face. “I think they’re doing classes for little kids during the week. Maybe you could sign up."

Face red, Zoro yelled, “Shut up!” and stumbled, feet skidding wildly below him. He managed to catch himself, just barely, by hanging onto the sides of the rink. “Go bother somebody else!"

Sanji just laughed, turning and skating toward Nami, gestures getting grander the closer he came to her. Still unsteady on his skates, Zoro scowled and pushed off once more, focusing intently on the advice Robin had given him earlier: weight on the balls of his feet, legs bent, small steps until he started to glide --

“He’s flirting, you know,” came Robin’s cool observation, mischief lilting her voice as she skated by.

Zoro didn’t even try to fight it this time. He fell in a heap of limbs and swears, and that way, he could blame his red face on his latest skating catastrophe, and only Robin would know exactly what had flustered him so badly.


	8. Merry Christmas (I Don't Want to Fight Tonight)

Zeff had been admitted to the hospital the day before. A heart attack, apparently, in the middle of the dinner rush. Sanji had been making his own dinner when Patty called, had felt his entire world drop out from beneath him and shatter like the bowl he’d been holding when the words _Zeff_  and _heart attack_  had filtered through the rush of blood in his ears. He’d had to call Zoro and ask him to break into his apartment and make sure he shut everything off and didn’t burn the place down; as it was, he’d flown out of there without so much as a jacket on, and had broken the speed limit several times on his way to the hospital. If anyone had tried to pull him over, he wasn’t sure if he would have even noticed.

Sanji could only remember being quite so terrified once in his life, and that had been when his mother had been hospitalized the last time. Her sickness had been slow and coming on for years — and his fault, how could he forget? — but it had still taken him by complete surprise when she had gone into the hospital and just… never come back out 

He wasn’t sure what was worse: a wasting illness, knowing that someone you loved was slipping away from you inch by inch, or getting a call in the middle of a perfectly ordinary evening and having to face the fact that someone you loved might die.

Zeff wasn’t going to die, they assured him. He had to stay in the hospital for a few days, maybe a week at the most, so that he could be monitored, but he’d be able to go home and finish up his recovery there as long as he took it easy. Because it was Zeff, Sanji knew he wouldn’t do that; he was always getting on Sanji about smoking and ruining his health, but the moment he was released from the hospital, Sanji had no doubt that Zeff would try to go right back to his regular work schedule. He’d overwork himself, have another heart attack, and might just die.

Sanji wasn’t going to let that happen. They’d had a fight about it, in furious tones that only escalated to yelling on Sanji’s side, because when Zeff started to yell back and lose his color, Sanji had gone almost light headed looking at him. 

He’d stayed overnight at the hospital, something he was pretty sure wasn’t strictly allowed, but no one gave him too much trouble for camping out in the chair beside Zeff’s bed. He left to get a couple changes of clothes and his laptop after he and Zeff had their blow out fight about him taking it easy once he went home, and he’d come back with a spreadsheet and a plan. 

Phone pinched between his cheek and shoulder, he flicked his gaze to make sure Zeff was still sleeping peacefully, and kept his tone low as he spoke to Nami. “I’ll absolutely sub-let to you and Vivi, but only if that’s what you really want. Please don’t feel pressured into this because of everything that’s going on."

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Nami’s voice was firm. “Vivi and I have wanted to get a place on our own for a while, and this will be a nice place to test things out. We can ride out your lease, see if it works, and if it does… get a place we want to stay in long-term."

Sanji smiled despite the bleak circumstances he was in, voice softening. “I’m really happy for you two. I know it’ll work out for you, but you’re so smart to test things out, Nami. If this is what you really want, I’ll be happy to get paperwork together."

“This is what I want.” He could hear laughter in the background, and a couple of excited shouts. The noise became muffled, but he could still clearly hear Nami yelling. “Don’t break that! Ace! Stop making out with your boyfriend and control your brother!"

“Ace and Marco got together?” Sanji asked, surprised. It had been years coming, if you asked any of them, but he was surprised to know it finally happened. “How much did I miss?"

Nami huffed, annoyed. “Yeah, and they’re fused at the mouth. Luffy, I swear to God—"

Sanji laughed, bringing his free hand to up to massage his temples. “It’s okay. You can go. I’ll work on getting this written up for you, and bring it by next week. Of course, I’ll pay January’s rent, _no arguing_ , and then you and Vivi can take over."

“You’re too generous,” Nami accused, but her voice was warm. “And I’ll take complete advantage of it. Okay, love you hon. Talk to you later. Zoro, are you ready yet--"

“See you soon,” he agreed, killing the call and slumping a little in his seat. 

Zeff was still sleeping, and the only concession to the holiday here was the shitty little tree he’d bought at the gift store downstairs. As much as he wanted to be at the hospital and knew that he needed to be there, Sanji found himself missing his friends fiercely, too. The ache became a little more bittersweet when he considered the reality of what he was planning: with Nami and Vivi subletting his apartment, and him moving here, he’d be baseline a few hours away from most of the people he’d come to call his closest friends in the past near-decade. Hell, they’d been with him through the best and worst of culinary school, had supported him through job offers and positions not working out, had been there for the worst of the dissolution of his relationship with Pudding. 

They were family, as much as Zeff was family, and although it wasn’t as dramatic as cutting all ties, he knew it would be harder to keep in touch with them. He’d become that person who only came around for holiday parties and birthdays, likely, between the insane schedule he was about to have at the Baratie and all their jobs, too. It made him tired.

He closed his eyes, stretching his legs out, and laced his hands over his stomach. His sleep schedule had been sporadic at best the past few days, and he found that he couldn’t usually sleep more than a few hours at a time even when exhausted, so he’d learned to take what he could get. Zeff or one of the kind nurses would wake him if they needed him, after all.

It felt like he’d just fallen asleep when he was startled awake by a softly muttered swear, and he sat up in the chair, rubbing at his eyes to try to clear them. “Zeff? Everything okay?"

“Ah,” said a voice that distinctly didn’t belong to Zeff. “I woke you up, huh?"

Blinking hard, Sanji dropped his hands to his lap and stared, bewildered, at Zoro standing at the foot of the bed. A nurse was watching from the doorway, not even attempting to hide her smile, as Zoro carefully wound tinsel around the railing on Zeff’s bed.

“What are you… is that tinsel?” Sanji cleared his throat, sitting forward more fully. “Are you… decorating?"

“I told you to stop wearing your hair like an asshole,” Zeff’s scratchy voice floated over to him, and he jerked more fully awake, scowling at his pseudo-father. “Apparently, he can’t see for shit with just the one eye out."

“If you want to get out of the hospital on time, you’ll stop being such a nasty old goat,” Sanji muttered, flushing when Zoro laughed. “It wasn’t a literal question!"

“Oh, so you just asked it like it was,” Zeff agreed, and Zoro laughed harder. “Chia pet over here has been tripping over himself decorating for about fifteen minutes. It was funny."

“I thought you were asleep,” Zoro grumbled, shoulders going up as Sanji mouthed _Chia pet?_  at the nurse, who shrugged. “I was trying to be quiet!"

“I just…” Sanji trailed off, looking around the hospital room to see little snowflakes taped to the walls, and a badly wrapped present sitting next to his pitiful tree. “I wasn’t expecting this."

“I know.” Zoro’s smile was smug, but there was something soft around the edges of it, too. “That’s your secret santa gift from Franky. You probably shouldn’t open it in a hospital,” he added, frowning. 

Sanji stared at the present for a few moments, trying to gather his words, when Zeff said loudly, “You’re all making too much of a racket. Get out for a while so I can sleep."

Standing, hands curled at his sides, Sanji hissed, “You don’t have to be such a jackass, old man!” as the nurse brushed past him with her chart in hand.

“Come on,” Zoro muttered, circling Sanji’s wrist and tugging on him. “Robin’s down in the cafeteria. You should probably eat, anyway."

Exhaustion started to drag at his shoulders the further he got from Zeff’s hospital room, and the more he thought about it, the harder the knot of anxiety in the pit of his stomach became. Change was always difficult for him to roll with, no matter how big a game he’d talk about what needed to be done; he'd take charge and be screaming on the inside the entire time, and the next few months of his life were going to be nothing but a thinly-veiled panic attack, he was sure. The doctor had said it could be at least that long before Zeff was ready to go back to work, but given his age and general health, he might never be able to take on the same work load. 

He brought a hand up, digging his knuckle in above his eyebrow, and wondered what that would mean for the Baratie. He’s had dreams of opening his own restaurant someday — either when he’s married or thirty-five, whichever comes first, so he’ll have the next big chunk of his inheritance to bankroll it — but he can’t just leave the Baratie to flounder. There’s no one else to step up, no one else to carry on Zeff’s legacy, because Sanji is the closest he has to a son.

Zeff would be furious if he knew what Sanji was thinking, but Zeff was currently on his back getting his fucking vitals taken, so he didn’t get an opinion.

“Hey."

Jarred from his thoughts, Sanji glanced to Zoro, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Your dad’s gonna be fine."

For some reason, hearing the words from Zoro, steady and sure, made his throat go hot and his eyes sting. He should say _thank you_  or _I know that_ , but all that came out of his mouth was, “He’s my uncle. On my dad’s side."

Zoro inhaled, shaking his head very slightly, and repeated, “He’s gonna be fine."

Sanji’s fingers curled against his thigh, and he nodded sharply. “I know."

They walked in silence for a few more minutes, and then without warning, Zoro’s hand found his and gripped firmly.

“Sanji.” They stopped, and Zoro held his gaze intently. “Your dad’s gonna be fine."

Sanji’s teeth clicked together on a tremble-turned-to-clench, and he squeezed Zoro’s hand, blinking hard. 

When Robin came around the corner, they each yanked their hand back, almost guilty. For some reason, Robin looked guilty, too.


	9. All I Want For Christmas is You

Having Vivi and Nami in the apartment the floor below him hadn’t been bad, but it had been different. They’d all pitched in to help Sanji move back home to work at the Baratie and make sure that Zeff recovered at a sedate pace, and they’d thrown him a going away party everyone still talked about, considering Franky had accidentally proposed to Robin halfway through it. They hadn’t managed to all get together again, even for birthdays — schedules were too all over the place, and their lives were slowly branching out — but their annual holiday party was a tradition. Even Sanji was coming, though no one had seen hide or hair of him since he started up full time at the Baratie.

They’d kept in touch, and actually, Zoro and Sanji had talked more than ever, albeit by text. He’d made up his mind that, this year, he was going to say something about whatever was hovering between them, because he’d felt _something_  for Sanji for too long for it to be just an infatuation, and he liked to think there was a little more than just friendship there, too, for the cook. He couldn’t be sure, because he was terrible at reading that kind of thing, but if the smug looks the women kept giving him every time he brought up that idiot’s name were any indication, he at least had a chance.

A chance was all he really needed. If something came of it, great. If it didn’t, at least he’d stop _thinking_  about it 

He checked his phone again, frowning at the last text message Sanji had sent him. _Gonna be late_. He’d sent his contribution for the secret santa gift exchange ahead with Nami, who had given him a mysterious look and dropped an envelope on his lap, but Zoro had begun to worry that Sanji wouldn’t make it for the party after all.

Dropping down next to him, Luffy chewed on his thumbnail a moment. “Is Sanji coming yet?"

Zoro locked his phone, lifting one shoulder in a careless shrug. “Soon, probably. He just said he’s going to be late. I dunno when he’ll get here."

Luffy exhaled on a groan, sinking to the floor. “But he’s bringing meat skewers…” 

“Focus on something else.” Reaching over, he flicked Luffy’s forehead. “There’s already enough food."

With a scowl, Luffy rubbed his head and sat back. “You say that, but there’s never leftovers. Hey, maybe that’s him!"

The door slammed, and Franky’s voice floated in, announcing loudly that the “Hottest future Mrs. Franky is coming through, make way!” and, though Zoro was glad they’d come back with more beer, he could admit to himself he was a little disappointed.

He resisted looking at his phone, just barely, and instead flipped the envelope over in his hands again. Everyone else had already exchanged gifts — Sanji had specifically said he didn’t want anyone waiting on him — and the only ones left were Sanji’s own present, and the one he’d given Zoro. Judging by the size and weight of it, it was probably some kind of gift card, and Zoro was trying not to be disappointed by that, too. It was… awfully impersonal, and Sanji made it a point every year to pick out the perfect present for whoever’s name he drew. It was hard not to feel the sting of that, even knowing how crazy the guy's year had probably been.

“Stop being stupid,” he muttered to himself, tearing into the envelope. From the doorway, Nami smiled into her drink.

There was a single scrap of paper in there, and in Sanji’s messy handwriting, three letters were scrawled: IOU. 

“The hell?” He asked blankly, turning it over in case it was some sort of joke. There was nothing on the other side, though, and his frown deepened, hurt flaring up beneath his annoyance. “What an asshole."

He crumbled the note up and tossed it, opening his text thread with Sanji to send him an angry message.

_Got your present. Thanks a lot._

To his surprise, a response came back right away.

_ur welc!! omw_

Zoro hesitated a moment, thumbs hovering over the keyboard, and tapped another message out.

_You’d better not be texting and driving shit cook._

Again, the response was fast: _dw!!! there in 3…2..._

The door banged open again, and Luffy let out a cheer. “Sanji! You’re here! And whoa, you brought—“ he was cut off abruptly by the food he’d just shoved into his mouth, Zoro assumed.

Chopper and Brook headed toward the foyer, no doubt following their noses, but Zoro remained stubbornly in his chair. After the flippant present he’d gotten from Sanji, he wasn’t feeling very charitable or even all that happy to see him, and he knew he needed a couple minutes to work through the twisty feeling in his chest before he decided what he was going to say. His plans hadn’t changed — he wasn’t that fickle, and he also wasn’t that petulant or materialistic — but he also really, really didn’t want to do this wrong.

“Where’s the algae head?” Another door opened, and Sanji strode inside, looking a strange combination of smug and irritated. His gaze landed on Zoro almost immediately, and he gave him a strange look. “What, I don’t even rank getting out of the chair after you’ve been blowing up my phone all day?"

Sanji looked — good. Better than the last time Zoro had seen him, when he’d had dark circles under his eyes and a perpetually stressed tilt to his mouth. He’d filled out a little in the face, or maybe that was just the illusion that the thick scarf bundled around his neck gave, he couldn’t tell. (Sanji cared about fashion, not Zoro. He’d had the same coat for five years, and until it fell apart around him, he wasn’t getting a new one.)

He tapped his fingers against the arms of his chair and then shrugged. “Figured you’d make it in here eventually. Good to see you, curly."

“Ugh,” Sanji groaned, unwinding his scarf and throwing it at Zoro. “I fucking hate that nickname."

“I know.” Zoro swatted the scarf away, unbothered when it landed in a heap on his knee. “That’s why I use it. Were you seriously sitting out in the driveway texting me?"

To Zoro’s confusion, Sanji bit his lip, his eyes flashing with excitement. “No,” he said, drawing the word out, and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I was actually picking up your present. That’s why I’m late."

Something small and ugly was soothed by that, and Zoro relaxed a little bit, relenting enough to smile back. It actually was like Sanji to go nuts trying to find the perfect gift, and he must’ve had to special order it; the IOU note made a lot more sense, and Zoro was embarrassed to have been so upset about it, even momentarily. He glanced past Sanji, but didn’t see anyone carrying a present in, and so looked back to him. “Well?"

Deftly unbuttoning his coat, Sanji shrugged out of it and folded it over his arm. “Well, what?” He was wearing a wine-colored button-down and a thin silver tie, and again, Zoro thought… he looked _good_.

To keep himself from blurting that out and starting a conversation he wasn't sure how he wanted to have yet, he stood, leaving the scarf behind. “My present. Where is it?"

Nami coughed, and Sanji shot her a look. “I left it in the foyer. Why don’t you go get it now?"

Zoro glanced between the two of them, his suspicion that something embarrassing was waiting for him rising by the moment, but he nodded. “Fine.” 

Sanji sidestepped to let him by, but not quite far enough; his shoulder brushed Zoro’s, and his stomach did a slow little roll. He ignored it, intent on taking the night one step at a time, and walked into the foyer in search of his gift. He didn’t see any packages, and as he glanced from person to person — Brook, Chopper, Kuina, Robin — no one was holding it. He was confused for a moment, mouth opened as he turned to shout for Sanji, when the rest of him caught up to his eyes and his head whipped back to face them.

Kuina.

“Kuina,” he said, disbelief and joy exploding in his chest like fireworks as she just grinned, throwing her arms out to either side.

“Surprise!” She said, her eyes dancing. “I’m your present. Wow, you really are gaping like a stupid fish, Sanji was so—mmph—"

He couldn’t help it; he lifted her right off the ground in a hug, burying his face in the crook of her neck and breathing in deeply. It had been so long since he’d seen Kuina, and even after trying a couple years ago, he still hadn’t managed to get any time off that lined up with hers to make a proper visit. They’d talked about her coming back a few times, but he hadn’t thought she would seriously be able to pull it off for at least another year, and — 

And she hadn’t done it alone. 

“Sanji,” he breathed, setting her back down but not letting go quite yet. 

“Yep,” Kuina agreed, yanking on the back of his shirt. “He’s a pretty decent guy. Who’s taking a video of this whole thing."

Zoro twisted, his arms still in a loose circle around Kuina, to see that Sanji was actively recording them with the biggest, brightest smile Zoro had ever seen on his face. Without giving himself time to think about it, he released his sister and strode over to Sanji, ignoring her catcalls behind him as he brought both of his hands to Sanji’s shoulders, then up to his face, cupping it between them.

“Thank you,” he said, very softly, watching color bloom on Sanji’s face. “This means so much to me."

Sanji swallowed, drawing back slightly. “Uh, you’re welcome."

Zoro’s thumbs moved over Sanji’s cheekbones, his touch as gentle as his voice. “I want to kiss you. Let me know if you don’t want me to."

“What,” Sanji breathed, and Zoro could hear hysterical giggling behind him somewhere — Nami, no doubt, and he was sure the witch had her phone out, too. “Is that supposed to be you asking?"

“Yes,” Zoro said, eyes dropping to Sanji’s mouth. “Is that supposed to be you saying no?"

The entire world stilled for a second, and then Sanji muttered, “Fuck you,” and pitched forward, their teeth clicking together in an inelegant, slightly painful first kiss.

It didn’t remain that way, though. Rather than meet Sanji’s violence, Zoro yielded, his mouth softening as he closed his eyes and slid his hands into soft blond hair. He opened himself to the kiss and took his time, trading breaths with Sanji as he relaxed inch by inch, their clumsy mash of mouths gentling into long, seeking kisses. He was dimly aware of the static of their friends making complete assholes of themselves behind them, but it was barely white noise to him. 

Their kisses trailed off, noses still pressed together and for a moment, they just held onto each other. Then Sanji laughed, a bright, disbelieving bubble of a noise, and Zoro couldn’t help it; he laughed, too, bumping his forehead against Sanji’s and skimming his hands down his back.

“Merry Christmas,” Sanji said, quiet and fond.

“It’s so… so beautiful,” Franky sobbed, breaking the spell of the moment, and Sanji and Zoro each lifted a hand in unison to flip him off.

Zoro snuck one more kiss in, lips still pressed firmly to Sanji’s as he returned, “Merry Christmas."


	10. You Will Get a Sentimental Feeling When You Hear...

Every time someone asks them, “So, how did you two meet?” Zoro just laughs, and Sanji gets pissed off. This goes on for _two damn years._

The reason for that is, Sanji is convinced that they met when he was stranded in a ditch and Zoro helped him out, and in turn, Sanji got him to Luffy and Ace’s Christmas party in time to actually enjoy it. Zoro, in all his smug and annoying glory, enjoys reminiscing on how that had been a particularly memorable experience, but it wasn’t, in fact, the first time they met. 

Sanji swears up and down that Zoro is just being a jackass.

Zoro pretends to be hurt that Sanji doesn’t remember. Maybe one of these days, he’ll tell him the story of how they met — maybe it’ll even be tonight, when he gets down on one knee and takes out the pair of rings he has in his pocket, and asks the question that he hopes to God he already knows the answer to.

But for now, it’s fun to watch Sanji get pissed off. 

 

* * *

 

The worst part about living with Franky was that it snowed like a motherfucker where he lived.

Zoro couldn’t complain too much, he supposed. He had a roof over his head and that was more than most kids his age and in his situation could ask for, so if he had to deal with a shit ton of snow and got asked to shovel the front walk once in a while, he supposed that was a fair trade. The sky had really dumped on them last night, though, and he was sweating from the effort of clearing the walk despite it being what felt like negative a hundred degrees outside. He’d thought about taking a break, but the idea of getting out of his winter gear, sitting down to relax for a while, and then getting bundled back up again was about a hundred times more exhausting than just powering through.

His shovel scraped against the sidewalk with an ugly noise, and he grunted, scooping more snow up and tossing it. He had a rhythm worked out, and it wasn’t so bad until someone came up the walk, inevitably stopping to talk to him and tell him how generous and hard-working he was, and how kids his age just didn’t contribute like this anymore, blah blah blah. They added ten minutes to the job every time they stopped to talk his ear off about it, and Zoro groaned internally when he saw someone bustling their way up the walk behind him 

Maybe they’d just nod at him and move on. The guy looked to be about his own age, and probably smart enough to notice the earbuds he had in and leave him alone. If he wasn’t, the grocery bags in his arms would probably keep him moving pretty quickly, so maybe it wouldn’t be all bad.

Zoro scooped, the guy got ever-closer, and to Zoro’s complete and utter disappointment, he stopped and tapped at his ear.

Great.

“What?” Zoro demanded, yanking his earbud out. His face was hot and red, he was sweaty and tired, and he made sure the guy knew how annoyed he was. “I’m busy."

The blond’s eyebrow went up, and the politely inquisitive look on his face became a sneer. “Well, excuse me. I was just going to ask you how long you’d been at this."

“A while,” Zoro ground out, and barely resisted the urge to flip the guy off when he only nodded. “That all? I’d like to finish sometime before I’m fifty."

With a mocking smile, the guy took a deep bow and stepped around Zoro, apparently finished with the conversation. This time, Zoro didn’t bother to curb his impulse; he flipped the guy’s back off, felt a little bit better, and got back to work.

About half an hour later, maybe forty-five minutes — hard to tell when he wasn’t actively watching the clock — a snowball nailed him right between the shoulders. Zoro straightened and turned around, ready to murder whoever’d had the bright idea to start a snowball fight he was certainly going to finish, and saw that it was the blond again. The blond, who was smiling smugly, and had a giant thermos in one hand and a tupperware bowl in the other.

Zoro yanked his headphones out of his ears, glaring suspiciously. “What do you want?"

“It’s time to take a break, isn’t it?” Without waiting for an answer, the guy shoved the thermos at Zoro, his smile becoming a smirk. “Wouldn’t want you to overheat and pass out in front of the apartments. Here, it’s cocoa, and I made soup."

“I don’t like cocoa,” Zoro said automatically, and most of his earlier annoyance vanished at the look on the cocoa-bearing weirdo’s face. “What? I don’t like sweets."

“Fine,” he said, rolling his eyes, and traded him for the soup. “But don’t tell me you don’t like chicken noodle soup. Sit down and eat. I’ll take over for a while."

The offer was so out of left field that Zoro just gaped for a moment. He’d assumed the guy had just been a curious jackass when he’d first gotten his attention, and he appreciated the gesture of the soup and cocoa, he guessed, but he’d also expected to be left alone to eat it. Maybe have some company and conversation at the most, not have a sassy blond be holding his hand out expectantly for the shovel.

“Are you slow?” He asked, gesturing impatiently. “Give me that and take a break."

“I’m not slow!” Zoro thrust the shovel at him, dropping where he stood to open up the container of soup, because fuck you, guy. “Damn."

The guy just laughed, nodding to the soup. “Let me know what you think."

Whatever it was going to taste like, Zoro knew that it smelled better than any soup he’d ever had put in front of him before. It might have just been because he was starving and hadn’t realized it, but he scalded his tongue on the first spoonful and didn’t care; he just kept eating, graceless and eager, as he watched the blond put his back into shoveling. All too soon, the soup was gone, and Zoro glanced to where he’d set the thermos of cocoa down.

It _had_  been brought for him. He picked it up, unscrewing the cap, and sniffed it experimentally. It was probably too sweet, but… if a guy could make chicken noodle soup taste like _that_ , maybe his cocoa was all right, too.

It wasn’t the best thing he’d ever drank, but it kept his hands warm while he sipped on it. By the time he got to the end of the thermos, the blond was on his way back, shovel over his shoulder, whistling a jaunty tune.

“Hey, you tried the cocoa,” he said brightly. “What’d you think?"

“Wasn’t bad,” Zoro said, and it was a little funny to see the way his eager expression flipped to a thunderous one. “Hey, normally I hate cocoa. The soup was really good, though. Thanks."

Apparently mollified, the guy bobbed his head. “You’re welcome. The walk should be cleared now, so you can do whatever. I’ll take those and wash them,” he added, holding out his hands for the thermos and container. “They’re my friend’s."

“Oh,” Zoro said, disappointed. “You don’t live here?"

“Just visiting. I’m Sanji,” he added, juggling his items so that he could offer his hand.

“Zoro,” he replied, gripping it and shaking. “Nice to meet you, I guess."

 

* * *

 

Later, after he's proposed and Sanji has accepted on the condition that he tell _the damn fake story already_ , they're taking a quiet moment to themselves while their friends continue to celebrate in the other room.

“That was _you_?” Sanji demands, looking incredulous and, for some reason, angry. “I would’ve remembered your hair!" 

“I had a beanie on,” Zoro says, chuckling and drawing his (fiancé, now) over, tucking his arms around his waist. “And the fact that you didn’t remember me made me like you more, actually."

Sanji quirked a brow at him. “Why, exactly?"

Zoro shrugged. “It just… showed me that you were just that kind of guy. You’d do something nice and totally forget about it. Probably meant you did nice shit all the time, just because you could. It stuck with me."

Face softening, Sanji presses a kiss to Zoro’s mouth, lingering as Zoro’s hands move up and down his back. “Sap."

“Mhm,” Zoro agrees, and on his last pass down Sanji’s spine, he goes further, slipping his hands into Sanji’s back pockets. “Love you. Want to ditch the party and go have engagement sex?"

Sanji laughs, curling a hand around the back of his neck. “Fuck, yes. Thought you'd never ask.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me at [doctorplum](http://doctorplum.tumblr.com) at Tumblr!


End file.
